


no music but the howling of wolves

by tgreyjoy



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Family Fluff, Gen, a small moment of happiness before everything went wrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-29
Updated: 2013-07-29
Packaged: 2017-12-21 11:01:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/899522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tgreyjoy/pseuds/tgreyjoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the deserter's execution, the Stark children discuss names for their new direwolf pups.</p>
            </blockquote>





	no music but the howling of wolves

**Author's Note:**

> Canon-verse fluff inspired by the passage in _A Game of Thrones_ when Catelyn tells Ned that the children are "in the kitchen, arguing about names for the wolf pups". The scene demanded to be written, and we could all use more happy Starks in our lives, wouldn't you agree?

The sky had darkened hours ago, and Winterfell was mostly quiet; yet Arya Stark's laughter rang throughout the kitchen, clear as the old bell tower. "And she licked my hand when I stroked her head!" Arya recalled for about the fifth time, pacing across the kitchen floor in a frenzy. "I can't wait until she grows bigger- we're sure to be the best of friends!"

Bran smiled. He'd been in a happy haze of his own since he, Father, Robb, Jon, and the others had returned from the execution with six direwolf pups in tow. After they'd introduced the pups to Mother, Sansa, Arya, and Rickon (the baby had been extremely wary of the furry newcomers, and refused to even pet his wolf), Robb had nursed them with warm milk and Father had tucked them away in the stables for the night. Since then, the Stark children- minus Rickon, who was asleep- had congregated in the kitchen, discussing possible pup names and sharing a piece of cake leftover from dinner. After failing to recruit Robb for a midnight ride, Theon Greyjoy had joined them, watching them argue with his usual amused smile.

It was surely past Bran's bedtime, but Mother and Father had disappeared; to the godswood, Bran suspected, for that was where they had all their private talks. But Bran couldn't bring himself to sleep- not with excitement in the air and cake on the table. Right now, he was content to sit and listen to Arya's joyful rambling. 

"Nymeria's going to be the greatest direwolf there's ever been," Arya continued. After going through about fifty possible names for her pup, mostly from old stories and songs, she'd decided on Nymeria. It was a strange name for a wolf, in Bran's opinion, but Arya seemed proud of her choice. "She'll be fast and strong and smart and powerful, just like her namesake. Queen Nymeria, who led armies across the Narrow Sea to conquer the lands of Dorne!" Arya swung an imaginary sword.

“She doesn't sound like much of a queen to me, fighting her battles herself,” remarked Sansa, rolling her eyes. "I doubt  _Queen_ Nymeria cleaned her skirts either."

Arya slowed her pacing to a stop, and looked gingerly at her own muddy skirts. “Do you even have a name for _your_ pup yet?” she asked Sansa defensively.

"Yes, I do," said Sansa, smiling. "Her name's Lady."

“Lady?” Arya repeated, staring at Sansa as if she'd suddenly grown another head. “A wolf isn’t a lady, Sansa. Next you’re going to expect her to wear dresses and share your lemon cakes.”

“Well, at least I didn’t name my pup after some _stupid_ witch queen nobody cares about!” Sansa retorted.

For a moment, Bran feared he’d have to witness yet another fight between the girls; luckily, Robb intervened. “Both of your pups have lovely names,” he said quickly. “And neither of you should insult what the other names her pup. There’s a reason we each have our own.” Robb turned to Bran, who was seated to his right. “Have you thought of a name for yours yet?”

Bran sighed. On his way back from the execution, pup snuggled against his chest, he'd gone through dozens of names in his head. Winter, after the Stark house words. Stone, like the towers he loved to climb. Spirit, like the creatures in Old Nan's stories. But none of them had seemed quite right. “No,” he told Robb. “Not yet.”

“That’s all right,” Robb said with a gentle smile. “I’m not fully sure what I’ll name mine. Maybe Grey, because of his coat.”

Theon, who sat on the other side of Robb, snorted. “How original," he said, clearly trying not to laugh. "Grey, for his grey fur. If your lord father thought the same way while naming you, your name would be Red."

“And yours would be Ass,” Jon muttered quietly; probably hoping the younger children wouldn't hear, but sound traveled well in the kitchen. Theon ignored Jon's insult, as usual, and took another bite of cake.

“What about you, Jon?” asked Arya, who had resumed her frenetic pacing. “What’s your pup’s name?”

“I was thinking of calling him Ghost,” Jon said. Bran thought back to the strange-looking pup with his white coat and red eyes, who moved without making a sound; yes, Ghost was certainly fitting. And a good name, too. Why hadn’t Bran thought of that?

“Because he’s supposed to be dead, like the rest of the little brutes?” Theon scoffed.

“Because of his _coat color_ ,” Jon clarified, glaring at Theon. "And because he seemed to appear out of nowhere, like a ghost would."

Theon sighed. “Well, at least you didn't name him White,” he said, raising his eyebrows at Robb and smirking.

Robb gave Theon a playful shove. "Be quiet, Greyjoy." 

“What do you think Rickon will name his?” Sansa asked. “He was so frightened when he saw the pups.”

“I don't blame him, his pup frightened me,” Robb said, grimacing. “That black one's the biggest of the bunch, and he nearly bit me when I fed him. I believe he'll be a wild one.”

“Hopefully not,” Jon put in. “Rickon’s already wild enough. We don’t need two beasts in Winterfell.” He and Robb shared a grin.

Arya had apparently decided she'd heard enough about everyone else's wolves, for she'd gone back to planning her future with Nymeria. “Nymeria and I are going to explore the godswood together!” she exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear. “I'll teach her how to hunt, and how to play with sticks, and maybe how to fold my clothes!”

Jon laughed. "Arya, Nymeria's a direwolf, not a serving maid," he said. "Queen Nymeria may have conquered all of Dorne, but I'll be surprised if your wolf learns to come when she's called."

Arya threw a bit of cake at Jon, who yelled at her in mock outrage. He jumped at her, brandishing an imaginary sword of his own. Soon, Jon was chasing Arya around the kitchen, the two of them laughing and shouting. Sansa watched them disapprovingly, twisting a lock of auburn hair around her finger. Theon yawned and fiddled with an arrowhead he'd taken out of his pocket. Robb laughed merrily, and gave Bran's shoulder a squeeze.

"I'm sure your wolf will be just as wonderful as Arya's," Robb told Bran. "Tomorrow I'll let you feed him yourself, I promise."

Bran's heart leapt. Like Arya and the rest of his siblings, Bran had a lifetime of adventures with his direwolf to look forward to. But unlike Arya, he was content with the mere promise of holding his pup again. Maybe tomorrow he'd come up with a name.

"I can hardly wait," Bran replied, smiling up at his brother. Theon finished off the cake. Sansa braided her hair. And Jon chased Arya out the kitchen door, their laughter growing fainter by the minute.


End file.
